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March 2019

It is in our nature as human beings to want to know our creator. Certainly this pertains to God, or whatever it is that has brought us all into being. But more immediately, I think, it pertains to our parents. Who are these mysterious people who chose to give us birth?

With our parents, we are fortunate that some of the answer we are looking for can often be found directly. Most of us get to spend at least some time with our parents. We can talk with our mom and dad, or if they are gone, with others who knew them. But time is limited, and parents frequently would rather hear more about their kids than talk about themselves. So, perhaps like with the question of God, much of what we would know about our parents must be put together through a sort of sleuthing, of looking for clues and then piecing them together in a story that seems to fit.

In regard to our fathers, I have been thinking that one of the places we find such clues is in a man’s garage. This thought has come to me as I have had the opportunity to visit my parents this week. In the evenings, after my parents have gone to bed, I stand in my dad’s garage and feel his presence.

Hanging above his work bench is a poem. It writes of the lunar landing, in which my dad played a part. It also speaks of Christmas. I mostly know my dad as a man of faith, but many of the things in the garage are a reminder that by education, career, and interest, he is also very much a man of science.

Like this poem, his life stands as an eloquent blending of the two.

In space the lonely missile spins its way, Beyond the earth’s soft breathing atmosphere Beyond the note of song the wind’s wild play The cumulus, the rain’s recurrent tear Throughout the sky of orbits hung by One Who saw his handiwork and called it good There moves this metal deed which man has done I tremble in the name of brotherhood For I remember how another night A new star pierced the heavens from above Not in the name of power or of might But in the name of His eternal love May satellite and star be reconciled And bring us nearer the waiting child. --Christie Lund Coles

I grew up around cows. From our front yard in Monroeville, PA, we could see cattle from Kuehn's Dairy grazing on a hill side across the valley. One of the ways I paid for college was by working at Turner's Dairy, and of course there were lots of cows there as well.

So I really should know the answer to this question, and frankly it embarrasses me that I don't: Are the cows above dangerous?

Here's my problem. I fish a little stream that runs through the pasture where these cows graze. When they see me, several of them come running for me. I don't think they'd actually hurt me. They probably just want to be fed. But I'd rather not discover I'm wrong on this.

Take this cow for instance. It's a young bull. He made a bee line fore me as soon as he saw me. If I stand my ground (with an electric fence between us) he acts afraid. But the second I turn my back, he charges.

The problem is compounded by the fact that the best pool on the stream is just over a hill side that is just at the far edge of this picture. There is no fence around it. It definitely has some nice fish in it.